Acceptance
by ladydeadlock001
Summary: Strong Mature content.  Intended for Adults. Possible spoilers for "Normandy". Helen betrays James without malicious intent.  Her heart simply lies with another.


ACCEPTANCE

Six months after the war officially ended, Helen Magnus and James Watson had returned to the London Sanctuary. James was adamant about going ahead with plans for an EM shield to keep John Druitt out of the house and more importantly, away from Helen. He was certain that at some point John would harm her, or worse.

"James, he would not hurt me. He wouldn't." Helen shook her red head in denial. Of this, Helen felt certain.

"He tortured me Helen, and he enjoyed it. I don't trust him not to do the same to you if he thought he had a reason."

"He was playing a part and, I'm sorry he did those things to you darling, but he had to go that far to be convincing. I'm not saying I approve of it, I don't. The thought of what he did to you is repugnant but…he had to play the part of the heartless Nazi." Helen knew she shouldn't be defending John, or what he did to James, but she did believe John wouldn't have let him die.

"Oh Helen, it had less to do with playing a part than pure jealous rage, and he used the Nazi disguise to do it! Clear your head." James was becoming slightly frustrated with her. "You don't believe he would ever bring you to harm, but if he thinks you're betraying him, I'm not convinced."

Helen again shook her head, "_No _James."

"You don't know the extent of our _chat_ while we were alone." James hadn't told her and had not intended to do so, but he worried about her refusal to consider the possibility.

Her blue eyes flashed as she asked what he meant by that. What had they discussed in that chamber?

James reluctantly explained John's attitude, his anger that she was with him now. "_That _is why he did what he did to me, and if it had suited him at that moment, he would have killed me."

Supper was quiet until Helen spoke, her blue eyes glittering. She felt guilty and felt she needed to apologize.

"I'm sorry James. I shouldn't be defending John to you. What he did was reprehensible."

James covered her hand with his and leaned toward her, softly saying, "I just want you to be wary, Darling. He's a dangerous man and you must acknowledge that fact."

"I know. I do." She softly kissed his cheek. "I'm just glad you're alright, and I appreciate your concern for me." She smiled, taking his hand as she stood up from the table. "Come, let's go upstairs."

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, James was back in France, attempting to gather more information about how to ensure the effectiveness of the EM shield he and Helen were working on. Helen had stayed in London, and as she prepared for bed, her thoughts were on James and his obsession with trying to protect her from John. She knew John was dangerous, but she wasn't entirely convinced he could, or would, actually <em>kill <em>her. He had in fact, physically hurt her in the past, but had teleported away before he had done any real harm. Before she donned her nightshift, her fingers lightly touched the small scar on her breast, a constant reminder of what he had become. That had been decades ago, the moment of discovery that he was the infamous "Jack the Ripper". She had been truly devastated, repelled, afraid. After she shot him and he disappeared, she knew she should hate him for all of his crimes and she did…on the surface. But she had also harboured her deep love for him, forcing it into the furthest recesses of her mind. The criminal was not John exactly, but something that had possessed him. As she started wondering how her thoughts had turned from James to John so easily, she felt the air around her change.

"You didn't really believe I'd become a _Nazi _did you My Love?" The low teasing voice came from behind her. Helen spun around, trying to hide her shock at his sudden appearance.

Calmly as she could muster, she answered him, "I didn't want to believe you could be Jack the Ripper, and look how that turned out."

"Touche." John replied with a chuckle as he began wandering around her bedroom, inspecting, looking for traces of James. "Now…about James…" John picked up a bottle of perfume, opening it, smelling it.

"John, no. Please." Helen shook her head. "I don't want to discuss him with you." She walked over to John and tried to snatch the bottle of perfume from his hand, but he held onto hers.

"Does he please you?" he asked softly as he stroked her palm with his thumb, gazing into the eyes that he missed so much. " I can't imagine he does much more than that…or is even capable."

"Stop it John." she tried to pull her hand away, aware of what the stroking of her palm was doing to her lower regions, but he held firmly. "James is a good man, you were his friend once. He's good to me. He's good _for _me." She really did believe this but…

"Do you remember how you felt when you were with me Helen? I do…very well. Can he even compare?"

Helen finally freed her hand from his and put some distance between them. His touch was making her head spin a little and she wanted a bit of control. "It doesn't matter John. He's not a murderer. That's what makes him different. If I'm not with you now, you're the one to blame for that aren't you? You wouldn't let me help you. If we'd worked together, we very well may have changed what you've become, but you preferred the slaughter of defenseless women!" Her voice was rising in spite of her wish for control. "So you have absolutely no right whatsoever to comment on my relationship with James!"

"So…he can't compare?" John teased, but was entirely serious. He'd watched her carefully, listened carefully, and knew he still had a place in her heart. He had hurt her terribly, he realized this, but he was certain she still loved him, and James was merely…safe.

Helen let out a huff of frustration. She didn't trust herself with him at this point; far too many feelings suddenly surfacing and clouding her thinking. "Why are you doing this?"

John slowly walked toward her, then traced a finger lightly down her cheek and it did not escape him that she didn't flinch, or attempt to avoid his touch. "Because I needed to know what you're feelings for James truly were. And now I do."

Dear God, she was going to let this happen. Helen silently cursed her weakness for this man and her lack of emotional control around him. Try as she might, he always seemed to be able to read her.

He threaded his hands through her red hair, which he had decided he loved, and pulled her closer, dipping his head and taking her mouth with his. She didn't resist, only responded and leaned into his hard body, opening her mouth and inviting him in. He wanted her badly, took his liberties early, his hands moving over her body, squeezing her full breasts until her nipples were hard against his palms, then lifting her nightgown, sliding his hand between her legs, using his fingers as he remembered would make her groan with pleasure and anticipation of being filled by him.

John pulled the nightgown over her head, dropping it on the floor, then picked her up and carried her the short distance to her four poster bed. As she watched him undress, she shut down the warning voice in the back of her mind. She opened her legs, touching her breasts, which she knew made him mad with desire for her.

He knelt between her legs, and in turn, sucked hard at each of her breasts. Then grasping her hair and cupping her head to his, he kissed her, at the same time thrusting his fingers inside of her as deep as he could, savouring the feel of her and the gasp she let into his mouth. He pushed her down, pinning her arms above her head with one hand, his other hand grasping one of her legs and wrapping it around his waist as he drove his erection into her wet center. He closed his eyes at the pleasure of being inside her body again, at the rush of desire/love/possessiveness he felt at the same time. She struggled to free her arms, but rocked her hips hard against him, driving him on. Her panting, groans, his name on her lips as he made her come so intensely around him were music to his ears.

* * *

><p>James returned to London earlier than expected and was relieved to be back at the Sanctuary; he missed Helen and was anxious to see her. As he ascended the stairs, walking through the long dark hallway leading to her room, he heard her cry out. He rushed toward her room, his heart beating wildly at the thought she could be in danger, but stopped short at the next sounds he heard. He was closer now and the softer sounds were not cries of pain, but moans of pleasure. He hesitated, then quietly opened the door to Helen's room just a crack. He closed his eyes, steeling himself, then looked in. What he saw made his blood run cold and his heart clench in pain. He wanted to believe that what he saw on Helen's face was an expression of pain, and instinctively knew it was, but was mixed with a heavy dose of ecstasy at the way John was taking her. James' mind would only register bits, pieces, flashes of what he actually saw and heard; Helen naked, facing the bed post, John behind her…driving himself into her, his hand under her chin holding her head to his, the other hand sweeping down from crushing her breast to a crush between her legs holding her to him, Helen's arm reached behind her, cupping the back of John's head, the moansgasps/cries of pleasure escaping her beautiful mouth.

James could not bear any of it as he quietly closed the door and made his way downstairs to the study, where he poured a healthy dose of Cognac and drank half of it in one pull. He refilled his glass then sank down into an overstuffed chair.

What kind of fool had he been, thinking she would _ever _be over that murderous bastard. He couldn't wrap his mind around her feelings for John. The early John…maybe, although James had always thought him too possessive of Helen, even though he knew John loved her madly, and they themselves were great friends. But he couldn't understand her lasting love and attraction for him, after what he'd become, after what he'd done. He couldn't _understand _it, but he'd always known, only pushed that knowledge away because they had become a couple somehow and he loved her deeply. He had wanted to protect her from John, because he knew that he had hurt her physically in the past, but tonight he must have to accept that Helen did not necessarily _want _protection.

He had always envisioned Helen as perfect. He knew she wasn't, that none of them were. He refilled his glass yet again, trying to decide how he would confront her…or if he would…in the morning.

* * *

><p>When Helen awakened in the morning, the sunlight only beginning to stream into the room, John was dressing. She watched him from her place on the bed that was still filled with his warmth, still smelled of their night together.<p>

"You're leaving. Were you trying to do it without waking me?" She hated this, but she was well aware he wouldn't be staying with her.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips. "You know I must Helen, but you must always remember that I love you, no matter the past." His eyes as they gazed into hers were bright with tears. "But I can not stay. I apologize for my selfish actions and confusing your feelings for our dear James."

Helen's own eyes were awash in tears as she watched him disappear from her bed, from her life yet again, and his words about James rang in her ears.

Confusion was only the beginning. As she readied herself for the long day ahead, she wondered, not for the first time, nor would it be the last, what kind of woman she really was. She adored James who was a kind, patient, and unselfish lover, a wonderful, intelligent man, but she loved John with all of her body and soul in spite of everything.

Helen strolled downstairs toward the kitchen, secretly savouring the soreness in her thighs and between her legs. She'd been anticipating tea and breakfast alone and her mind turned to the day's work ahead, but she was shocked to see an uncharacteristically rumpled James sitting at the large wooden table and froze in her tracks. He looked up as she entered the kitchen, his face a blank stare.

"James…I…when did you get back?" she stammered. Had she ever actually stammered before? She hesitated for an instant, then started toward him.

James put his hand up in a gesture to stop her advance. He rose from the table as he asked calmly, "Where is your lover this morning Darling?" The last word held only a little venom.

Helen could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and her legs felt suddenly weak. "I don't…what are you…" The stammering again.

"I heard what I thought was you in trouble last night, but upon investigation found you apparently far from it." He was walking slowly toward her, his eyes never leaving hers, then stopped in front of her. "In actual fact, you were very much enjoying being taken by Druitt like a dockyard whore."

The fierce, powerful slap she threw across his face momentarily shocked them both.

"Oh god, James…please, I'm sorry…let me explain." Helen attempted to touch him then, was trying in vain to come up with a satisfactory explanation but came up empty. There simply wasn't one. He had dodged her touch, then turned back to the table and sat down. Her blue eyes filled quickly and overflowed, tears sliding down her cheeks. She had betrayed James and he had actually _witnessed _it, which made everything so much worse. He knew something about her she never intended to show him, but now he had an actual picture in his mind.

"There's no need Helen." He said, his voice now sounded resigned. "I've always known your feelings for him, even though I can not understand them. Not after everything he's done. I thought I might win your heart… but that just isn't in the cards."

"Please, can we talk? I don't want to lose…" she started, but he interrupted.

"Our friendship? I'll have to think on it Helen." His voice was soft, his heart was broken.

"I'm so very sorry." Her voice was a whisper, racked with tears, as well as shame and regret that she had hurt him.

"I know you are." was all he said as he rose again and left the room.

* * *

><p>She had honestly thought that she could be with James; she had never intended to hurt him the way she had, but she was slowly beginning to believe that John would always be there, lurking in her mind and occasionally in her bed. She knew she should be afraid of John, and perhaps she still was on some level, but allowed herself to admit that he was also exciting. Their sexual relationship had not begun roughly, but was something they had rather discovered by accident. John had always been possessive of Helen and after a party at which she had paid a bit too much attention to another man, had turned his aggression on her. They quickly learned that it turned them both on and amplified their desire for one another. It may not be right, or sane, but there it was. And now James knew this about her, and had as well accepted the fact that John would always, in some way, be a factor in her life.<p>

As her thoughts of John and James occupied her mind, her hands packed her bags. She was traveling to the western United States, where she would meet an associate who had called her in on an investigation of something they called a Big Foot. She wasn't sure how long she would be gone, but the time and space between she and James would hopefully help to heal their shattered friendship. She accepted that they would never be lovers again, but their work would keep them together as colleagues, and she hoped that some day he could find it in himself to forgive her.


End file.
